The Caldera Page 32

  “There’s something about cooking in the open,” she said to herself as she cleaned her cooking and eating implements and rested them by the fire to dry.

  The sun was low over the trees, and the shadows were lengthening. Hec emerged from the farmhouse and walked to the paddock, slipping the gate open and herding the sheep before him toward the barn. She stood and opened the door for him, moving to one side and blocking one of the sheep that seemed intent on escaping. The old farmer shoved the sheep into a stall, putting a beam across the entrance to keep them inside. Maddie watched, wrinkling her nose. She was glad she had decided to stay in the open air. She took her cloak and went back outside, settling down against the wall of the barn and wrapping the cloak around her. She pulled the hood up over her head, aware of Hec’s curious gaze, and began breathing deeply. Within the space of a few minutes, she was asleep. She would wake when the moon set, which was two hours away. She was confident that the cougar wouldn’t return until much later, by which time she would be awake and on guard. She opened her eyes two hours later, woken by the change in the light as the moon slid over the roof of the barn, throwing long shadows across the farmyard. Hec’s torches were still burning brightly, and she slid the barn door open and fetched her bow, quiver and the two specially prepared arrows. She dipped her thumb into the clay pot and smeared a generous daub of the drug onto each of the arrowheads. Then she resumed her position by the wall of the barn and settled down for a long wait.

  6

  MADDIE WAS COLD AND STIFF, AND HER RIGHT LEG WAS cramping. In addition, the old wound in her hip was aching in the cold.

  She longed to change her position, to stretch her legs and relieve the incipient cramp. But she knew any movement would create noise, and if the cougar was in the vicinity, it would frighten him off.

  She assumed it was a male, but there was no reason to think that was the case. It could be a female just as easily. Not that it mattered. If there was only one, there was no chance of any further additions. If the cougar had a mate, it wouldn’t be hunting for itself. The other big cat would do that.

  So the odds were, this was the last of its line—and that was all the more reason not to kill it. It was a magnificent animal and the thought of killing the last of its kind was anathema to her.

  If she could render the big cat unconscious, she planned to remove the trap from its paw and treat the wound with a healing, pain-killing salve. Then she would bandage it tightly. If she was successful, the paw would heal and the cougar would be able to hunt its normal prey, far back in the wilds of the mountains. That would leave Hec’s sheep safe from the predator in the future.

  While the paw was healing, she might have to provide food for the cougar—but that would be easy enough. A large deer or a wild boar would provide enough meat to feed it until it could hunt again.

  She sighed inwardly. She was still uncomfortable. But discomfort was a necessary part of hunting. Will had trained her in a hard school. She could sit or lie for hours in the same spot without moving. At some time, her life might depend on the ability to do so. To move was to be heard or seen. She could sit here for hours more if necessary. She had done so before, many times.

  Of course, the fact that she could do it didn’t make it any more comfortable or enjoyable. But that was part of a Ranger’s training.

  Pop! One of the flares went out, sending a thin spiral of acrid smoke rising into the air. Another was guttering and the remainder were dimming as they ran low on fuel. She scanned the clearing, moving only her eyes, her face hidden in the shadow of her cowl. She knew that if she stared fixedly at the spot where the venison haunch was wedged in the sapling, she might become mesmerized and miss the first sight of the cougar.

  If it was coming.

  She’d removed the small bell. When she thought about it, she had decided it was too big a risk. The cougar might associate the gentle ting! with Hec’s sudden appearance the previous night. It would already be on edge and ready to flee at the slightest noise or movement. When the cougar came—if it came—she would give it several minutes to settle into feeding. Then, when its attention was focused on filling its belly, she would rise and move a little closer before shooting.

  She wondered how long the drug would take to act and whether she should shoot both the prepared arrows for a quicker result. She decided against the idea. Too much of the drug might kill the beast, and that was the last thing she wanted. On the other hand, once she shot the drugged arrow and hit the cat, there was always the chance that it might attack her. To that end, her quiver was full of broadhead arrows she could use to defend herself. She would be reluctant to kill the animal, but it might be her last resort if her own life was in danger. It was more likely, she thought, that the impact of the drugged arrow in a non-vital spot would send the cougar running back into the forest.

  At least, she hoped that would be the case.

  Pop! Another flare went out, and the light was even dimmer in the farmyard. The trees cast weird shadows, and several times Maddie was sure she saw the cougar at the edge of the clearing. Each time, it was just her imagination at work. She blinked several times to ease her eyes. They were starting to blur under the strain of peering through the darkness, trying to penetrate the shadows.

  She scanned the clearing again, then concentrated her vision slightly to the side of the spot where the venison was hanging. Peripheral vision was more valuable in reduced light, she knew. Once again, Maddie resisted the almost overpowering urge to move her cramped leg, to ease the ache in her hip. It was all very well for Will to tell her not to move a muscle when she was on watch. He didn’t have an old wound that ached in the cold or stiffened if he stayed stock-still for an hour or so. He could—

  Movement!

  Her eyes shot back to the spot where she had seen it. It was a few meters from the sapling where the venison was hanging. Now there was nothing. The cougar, if it was the cougar, hadn’t moved again and was blending into the shadows beneath the trees.

  Then, suddenly, it was there, stepping into the clearing, head raised, sniffing the air for any sign of danger. The wind, what there was of it, was blowing from the cat to her, so there was little chance the cat would catch her scent. She froze, holding her breath in case he might hear the slight sound that it made.

  Then he moved again, belly low to the ground, padding silently toward the sapling, holding the injured forepaw off the ground as he went. The metal of the trap glinted in the torchlight.

  Inside the barn, the sheep sensed the cougar’s presence and bleated nervously. She could hear their little hooves rapping on the hard earth floor of the building. The cougar stopped at the sound, raising its head and turning its gaze toward the darkened building. It seemed to be staring directly at Maddie, the torchlight reflecting in its yellow eyes.

  She held her breath once more. Trust the cloak. It was the first rule of concealment for Rangers. It had been dinned into her brain countless times by Will. Trust the cloak and remain absolutely still.

  The yellow eyes seemed to be boring into her, but she remained motionless. The sheep inside the barn settled down after a few minutes when they could see no sign of the predator. They could still sense the cougar’s presence, but it had come no closer and posed no immediate threat.

  All I need now is for old Hec to come blundering out to protect his sheep, she thought. If that happened, she decided she would abandon this project altogether and leave Spiny Mountain farm to the tender mercies of the cougar.

  And serve them right, she thought bitterly.

  In spite of her fears, Hec didn’t appear, and after several minutes, the cougar was on the move again, seeming to flow over the ground, belly low, to the overpowering scent of the venison a few meters away.

  It stood on its hind legs to reach the joint, sinking its massive teeth into the meat and using the muscles of its back legs to try to drag the large piece free. But this time, Mad
die had tied the haunch securely in place and the cougar couldn’t shift it. Growling softly in frustration, the big cat began to tear chunks of meat from the haunch and gulped them down.

  The sheep stirred again inside the barn, and the cougar turned, still balanced on its rear paws, and looked in the direction of the darkened building. Then, after a few seconds, it decided that the sheep posed no threat to it, and resumed feeding. Now the noise of the sheep, and the crunching of the great cat’s jaws, would serve Maddie’s purpose. They would mask any sound she might make as she moved.

  Moving with infinite caution, she rose to her feet, wincing as the strain came on her hip. The cougar continued to feed, its normally acute senses blunted by the pangs of hunger and sheer pleasure of satisfying it.

  It was twenty meters away from Maddie and had its back to her as it stood on its hind legs to rend and tear at the venison haunch. Slowly, she selected one of the drugged arrows and nocked it to the bowstring, keeping the other ready between the fingers of her left hand on the bow. Her position wasn’t perfect so she moved silently, two long paces to the right, setting her feet down carefully, searching for any loose twigs under them that might snap and alert the feeding animal.

  Once she was in position, she would need to draw, aim and shoot in one movement. The bow would creak slightly as she drew it back, and she would only have a second or two before the beast reacted to the warning noise.

  Still the big cat was intent on its feeding. Maddie measured the distance between them. At this short range, there would be virtually no arrow drop. She raised the bow, took a breath, then drew and shot.

  Thrum-smack!

  The noises of the string releasing and the arrow striking home were almost instantaneous. The arrow hit in the heavily muscled part of the cougar’s hindquarters, penetrated and stuck. The cat reacted immediately, dropping to all fours—or all threes as it was—and spinning around, snapping its jaws at the sudden pain in its upper hind leg. As it was designed to do, the main shaft of the arrow broke off, leaving the drug-laden head firmly fixed in the beast’s flesh.

  The cougar growled angrily, trying to bat the short piece of light wood away with its front paw. But Maddie had intentionally aimed at the animal’s left flank, so that it would have to support its weight on the injured right front paw when it tried to do so. The right paw, burdened by the trap and badly injured, wouldn’t support its weight, and it stumbled, fell, then recovered and bounded away into the forest.

  The moment after she had shot, Maddie had nocked a broadhead arrow to the string and had it ready in case the cougar attacked. Now, as it retreated, she started after it impulsively, heading for the narrow game trail it had taken through the trees.

  Then good sense intervened and she stopped. It would be foolish in the extreme to go blundering into the forest close behind the injured cat. It could turn on her in an instant. Better to wait a minute or two and allow the drug to take effect, then follow it.

  Her heart was racing with the excitement of the moment, adrenaline coursing through her body. Yet she forced herself to remain unmoving for several minutes. Then, carefully, she moved into the forest, stooping to follow the game trail, where branches and bushes grew across it below head height.

  Ahead of her, some distance away, she heard an angry growl from the cougar, and the sound froze her in her tracks for a few seconds. Then she reasoned that it was some distance away and continued. The beast was panicked, running to escape, and left a clear trail as it went. Maddie followed it easily, pushing through the close undergrowth, ears and eyes alert for the first sign that the big cat might be doubling back.

  Again, she heard the angry growl. It seemed closer this time, and she hesitated, not wishing to run into trouble.

  Another growl from close to. But this time it sounded different—less threatening and tailing away into a series of panting grunts. Then there was silence.

  Crouched almost double, she pushed on through the bushes, rounding a bend in the trail, bow out before her, arrow nocked and ready to shoot at a moment’s notice.

  And there, only a few meters away, was the cougar.

  7

  SHE FROZE, HER HEART LEAPING INTO HER THROAT AS SHE saw the huge, tawny creature lying in the center of the track, belly down, facing toward her.

  Then her training took over. The bow came up, and she began to draw back, her eyes fixed on the massive cat. Because, seen this close to, it truly was massive—bigger than the largest wolf she had ever seen, nearly as large as a bear, although not as bulky.

  Slowly, she relaxed, letting the string down and replacing the arrow in her quiver as she realized that the big cat was unconscious. Its flanks heaved with its deep breathing, and its eyes were closed. It showed no sign that it had noticed her as she blundered through the low-lying scrub and emerged onto the section of track where it lay.

  “Well, the drug works,” she said softly to herself. She hesitated still, unwilling to approach the comatose beast immediately. She wasn’t totally sure that the cougar was unconscious. It could be a ruse on the animal’s part to draw her closer, so those sharp claws and massive fangs could rend and tear at her.

  She stood for a full minute, waiting to see if the beast reacted. She shrugged unhappily. She hadn’t really thought too deeply about this part of the exercise. Then a further thought struck her. She had no idea how long the beast would remain unconscious, and every minute she wasted standing here took her another minute closer to the time when it might wake up. And if it did so when she was still working the injured paw, the result could be regrettable—to say the least.

  Too late, she realized that she should have asked the apothecary for some estimate of how long the animal would remain unconscious.

  “This is a fine time to think of that,” she told herself. Then, unwillingly, she took a pace forward. Then another. Still no sign of reaction from the cougar. Finally, she covered the remaining distance between them and went down on one knee beside it. She placed the bow to one side and loosened her saxe in its scabbard. Not that a saxe would do her much good if the beast awoke and attacked her. Her breath was coming in short, hard little intakes, and her heart was hammering inside her chest.

  The cougar’s breathing was long and steady. Its eyes remained shut.

  She studied the injured front paw. The trap was a small one—possibly set for rabbits or hares or other small animals. It had snapped shut on the paw, and the cougar had obviously torn it loose from the light chain that would have secured it. It had never been intended to resist an animal as powerful as this. But the teeth of the trap had sunk into the cat’s flesh and locked there, and it had been unable to remove it. The area around the trap was matted with dried blood.

  Carefully, nervously, she leaned forward and placed her nose next to the injury, sniffing carefully. She was painfully aware that she had placed her head within a few centimeters of the cougar’s fangs, and that thought consumed her for some seconds. Then she shook her head, regaining her focus and concentrating on the wounded paw. There was no smell of corruption that she could discern, although the cat was strong smelling in the extreme. No wonder the sheep had panicked, even in the safety of the barn.

  Tentatively, she reached out and touched the injured foot, very gently. The cat stirred, but its eyes remained closed. The paw was tucked slightly under the uninjured one, and she would have to move it to work on it. She took hold of the front leg, thirty centimeters above the paw, and gently tugged it clear of its fellow.

  The cougar growled as she moved its leg. Obviously, the movement had caused it some pain. Her eyes shot to its face but its own eyes remained tightly closed. The pain had penetrated its drug-fogged senses, but not enough to waken it. Maddie’s mouth was dry and she licked her lips nervously. At least now the paw and the trap were in the open and unobstructed so she could work on them.

  She opened her medical pack and began to lay out the
items she would need. First was a small oil-fueled lantern with a polished metal reflector behind the lens and wick. She took her flint and steel and struck a flame into a small pile of tinder, then used a wax taper to light the lantern. She settled the lens back in place and adjusted the reflector so that the lantern threw a narrow beam of bright light across the trail. She set it down on a small flat rock, so that it illuminated the cougar’s paw. Then she took her canteen, unstoppered it, and poured water over the matted hair and dried blood.

  Gently, she used her fingers to loosen the matted fur around the wound, stopping several times to pour more water. Once she had washed away the dried blood and loosened the tight knots of fur, she checked the cougar’s breathing once more. It was still deep and even, and the cat showed no sign that her ministrations were causing it any pain.

  “That’ll change any minute,” she muttered.

  She sat back on her heels, unwilling to begin the next phase—that of loosening the jaws of the trap and removing it from the cougar’s paw. To put off the moment, she checked her equipment once more, making sure she had salves and bandages ready. She had considered stitching the wound but her hands would never remain steady enough for that, and the thought of plunging a needle into the cougar’s flesh terrified her.

  Taking a deep breath, Maddie committed herself to the task. She took the trap in both hands and tried to pull the jaws apart.

  The cougar stirred as she disturbed the trap, and she stopped instantly, checking to see if its eyes were open, but it slumbered on. She reached out for the trap again, then stopped. Her first attempt had told her that she wouldn’t loosen it easily. The spring wasn’t overly heavy, but she couldn’t get a decent purchase on the jaws of the trap.

  She sucked in her lower lip, thinking, then drew her saxe from its scabbard. She slipped it between the jaws, holding it flat, then twisted it.